Keeping It Together.

It's been a long month since my last post. I have to admit it's not been a lack of thoughts/experiences/stories to tell. Just the opposite.

My Mother's birthday was April 26. I didn't do too well the days leading up to her birthday––my Mom passed away in October of 2011––and with Mother's Day looming, I'm thinking about her even more.

I lost one of my best suddenly two weeks ago. Too young and full of life to go but he did. I still haven't come to grips with his passing. And with his birthday in less than a month, I'm sure I'll be thinking of Larry even more.

Work has been challenging, as time off seems impossible. I've already changed my vacation plans twice due to work. With 4 weeks of vacation––I negotiated that before I came on board––to take in the next 6+ months, I'm looking at losing some of that I'm sure. Not to mention the fact that I need to take days off for my cancer check-ups. Which, by the way, start today. And that's another mental process to add to the rest of the bullshit. Yeah, I'm not myself. I'm angry, frustrated, emotional and searching for answers to questions that have no answers.

Like I said, keeping it togther. One minute at a time.

Stopping For A Thank You

I've been contemplating shutting this blog down. But a few of you have told me "no."

So, for the very few who read my blog, I want to say THANK YOU. I feel privileged you take some time out of your busy life to read what I write.

And I'll keep writing.

April Fools

I was working through the day yesterday, in my yard with my Wife and oldest Grandson. It was April Fool's Day and the pranks were running through my head like a kid through a sprinkler on a hot summer day.

Then I had some of the morbidly funny thoughts I have from time-to-time as a result of surviving cancer (twice). I settled on a fantasy world created as I mowed the lawn, cut & pruned some trees and pulled enough weeds to make my arms feel like Popeye after he's downed his spinach. (For those of you born in the last 30 years, you can find more on Popeye here).

I thought, "what if this whole cancer thing was an April Fool's joke?" (Yes, a very bad and cruel joke at that. But like I said, my sense of humor was at an all-time morbid high). What if I was just part of an experiment? I mean, head & neck cancer ("you mean, throat cancer or brain cancer, right?" Wrong)? Caused by the HPV virus? In Men? Yeah, it was quite unusual in 2007, as up until then conversation was centered around cervical cancer and the PAP with HPV test for young females. (My Daughter went through this, so I have some knowledge, thank you very much). What if they looked at me and said, "well, he looks like he can handle this. Let's try to kill him while we keep him alive." We'll put a feeding tube into his stomach––and make him wait for 4 weeks to figure how it works since we've NEVER seen this kind of feeding tube in a patient––cut our part of his tongue, scrape his larynx, remove his tonsils, yank 4 teeth out of his head, give him chemo right out of clinical trials and 7 weeks of radiation (35 total) WHILE we're giving him chemo every Friday for the next 13 weeks and tell him he has to miss work for the next 6 months. Oh, and just when he's finished with all that, we'll give him skin cancer, cut it out of two places (15 and 10 stitches, respectively, and two cold "burns" to remove two other danger spots) and tell him to stay out of the sun as well as out of work.

Yeah, that would've been a helluva April's Fools joke.

I'm not laughing.

The Announcement

I'll never forget that day, November 7, 1991.

I was in my office at work when I got a call from a friend––Magic was going to announce he has AIDs. After I asked him what was the punchline, he told me this was the word on the street. We used to call it the grapevine. And the grapevine in LA is all about who knows who and "the real story you won't ever hear on the news."

I then got up from my desk to try to get rid of the shock. As I was walking down the hallway, a co-worker said to me, "did you hear? Magic has AIDS. He's going to have a press conference around Noon." This was taking place around 10-10:30am, West Coast time. We all gathered in front of the TV in our conference room, eerily silent as we waited like everyone else.

Fast forward 20 years. As I watched "The Announcement" on Sunday, I started to relive that moment. And then, as I listened to Magic talk about telling his Wife and Family, I broke down. Tears were running down my face and I must have looked terrible, as my Wife said, "are you OK? I know how much you love Magic." I turned to her and said, "what he just said about having to tell Cookie (Magic's Wife), I went through the exact thing. Feeling the same way. And I NEVER heard this part of his story before." This blog started almost 4 years ago because I had to share the reactions by other people in my life through the cancer diagnosis, treatments and seeing people for the first time since I had cancer. Magic went through the same thing, but on a much bigger and less private stage. But I knew exactly what he was going through. And how much he had to educate people that he had HIV, not AIDS, and how he and others after him would beat this and live longer than anyone expected.

Thank you, Earvin, for sharing such intimate details about your path. And thank you for your strength.

That is much bigger than The Announcement.

Looking Back In Order To Move Forward

I'm a big believer in milestones. Those moments that happen by design or just because you were in the right place at the right time––or wrong place at the wrong time, wrong place at the right time and right time at the wrong place. They count.

I was diagnosed last week benign fasciculation syndrome. While it sounds bad, it's actually better than I thought it would be––BFS is a "diagnosis of exclusion", which scares the hell outta anyone. Why? Because when the nasty letters start to appear on screen––ALS, MS, MD––it can increase the levels of BFS. What is really is, is STRESS. Anxiety. Fatigue. So because of a compromised autoimmune system due to cancer and those lovely treatments, stress becomes the silent attacker. And stress is where we are currently in the "preventative" arena of keeping cancer away in our bodies.

Thank you very fucking much, stress. You have done it again. Or should I say, I have done it to myself again. My life is always an adventure or misadventure away, so you would think I could handle anything. But my human side is showing. The last 6 months have been extra tough, watching my Mother die a slow and painful death, dealing with her fractured estate and having each of my children go through one painful experience after another. But hey, it could be worse, right? I've been to hell and back.

Time to let it go.

The Battle Of Today

As strange as this may sound, I'm a big Whitney Houston fan. Style, grace and an angelic voice that only God could have helped create.

The news of her passing came with extreme sorrow and disappointment––and fear. She was an addict. She was not unlike the millions of others who fight addiction every day. She was human. And that's where the so called " we are all created equal" truly does come to life. We can become powerless over something that is so terribly bad for us but make us feel so good. For some of us it's work (workaholic). It's food. It's a drug and/or alcohol that we can't live 24 hours without that very second.

I'm fearful because I believe that each and everyone of us is susceptible to giving in to the traps of excess, of the inability to manage and ultimately abuse ourselves at any moment that will change our lives forever in a negative fashion. I'm also acutely aware that a a cancer survivor, those moments become even more special and precious. The battle today is all that matters. I can "win" this moment, this hour, this day. It's not going to be easy but then, what is?

I have to thank my Father, for helping realizing the importance of taking care of yourself TODAY, one day at a time. Because of that, he is still alive today. For Whitney, she lost the battle and the war on Saturday. I have no idea how she passed or if they will find out exactly why she left this earth too soon. It wasn't what she did last week, last year or even the night before her tragic. It was this past Saturday that won. And we are all a bit worse off.

Today won again.

100,000 To 1

Everyone watches the Super Bowl––at least it seems that way. It's become one of the biggest "holidays" in American Culture.

Last year, SB XLV, I was in North Dallas with 100,000 of my not-so-closest-friends taking in the experience. I had always wanted to be at the game, remembering when LA (or Pasadena) would host the NFL's biggest show on earth. And last year was very special, not only getting great seats but also working while trying to enjoy the pre-game tailgating and getting the final shots we needed to finish the 25 day tour we took from Detroit to North Dallas. It was long. It was tiring. It was fun––for the most part.

This year for SB XLVI, it was just me and my Daughter watching the game. And she had just come back from New York so I knew a halftime departure was inevitable. But I loved having her there with me, as my Wife had just left for SoCal, 2 of my Sons were on the road driving to SoCal and somewhere near The Grand Canyon and my oldest Son was watching the game at his with his family. Normally, we would ALL be at my house having a great time. Especially after surviving cancer, these family get togethers are really important. But here I was, life taking each of us in different directions and sitting with my 3 dogs watching the game on my big screen. It was extremely different than last year, from one extreme to another. As I sat there all alone, I realized I was smiling. Smiling because I was thinking of all my family and how ironic it was that I was by myself on Super Sunday. I was by myself but not alone. I had my family in my heart.

And without 100,000+ others around me, I also knew I could go to the bathroom or get something to eat without waiting in line.